Year 132: Death
by InkblotsOnThePage
Summary: SyOt It's a brand new era in Panem. After Snow's bloody demise, and ten years of peaceful rule, a new leader springs up from the ashes bringing a brand new game and some old hatred with him. This time, there is no escape. This time, there is no hope. This time, they will be defeated with one final games…and several final twists.
1. Prologue

It's a brand new era in Panem. After Snow's bloody demise, and ten years of peaceful rule, a new leader springs up from the ashes bringing a brand new game and some old hatred with him. This time, there is no escape. This time, there is no hope. This time, they will be defeated with one final games

D13-Anastasia Miriad


	2. Omnia Vincit Mortem

**I am reposting D1 together! Now...reviewer replies!**

**Radio Free Death-OMG! You are such a great editor! I would love it if you were my beta! (Ask me about it on a day I'm not this sugar high…HAHA!) Either way, I appreciate your review, and I will try better on character development. Some characters will be shallow, so bear with me here! However, I think you'll like Timmy better than Krizia. I personally fell in love with this character and am basing him off one of my besties! **

**~Inkblots**

**~Inkblots**

_I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I'm out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell do not deserve me at my best. -Marilyn Monroe_

**Krizia Richards, District 1, Age 17 (the author asked me not to name him/her)**

They all tell me I'm rude. They all tell me I'm unladylike. They all tell me to act like a pimp. I don't care. None of them know me, none of them deserve me, none of them are survivors. I've trained all my life to be a career because different to all the District 1 Female victors' opinions, looks aren't everything. And just because I'm brunette and have brown eyes does not mean they should count me out. Yes, I may be high maintenance. But at least I'm not obnoxious, fake, greedy and everything else those blonde bimbos are. They say they're the ones that can't handle me. Well, I can't handle them!

I hate the Capitol. They took away my best friend. They took away my cousin. They took away everyone just because my grandmother spoke out during the Everdeen Rebellion. But I hate myself more. Why didn't I volunteer for my best friend? Why didn't I jump in front of that bullet? Why did I ever let the Capitol get away with anything? It all goes down to one thing, fear. Fear of them. Fear is deadly.

"Krizia Richards!" Miss Fryell yells so loudly I swear the class next door hears her. Why in the world did I get put with this lunatic for Homeroom? All she does is talk on and on about manners-"You will not daydream in my class! It is so disrespectful!"-my terrible grades-"Honestly, Krizia! You only have 64%! That is an offensive to the district!"-and how unladylike I am-"You smell like the sewer! Be more ladylike and take a shower!" What is wrong with her? I'll take showers whenever I want to! I'll do as well as I want to! I'll be who I want to! It's my life!

I sigh, trying to pay attention as Miss Fryell starts talking about Panem's 'rich and illustrious' history. I glance to my side where Jonas, one of my best friends, is sleeping with his eyes open. It's kind of creepy. Rolling my eyes, i take my sharpest pencil and jab him in the stomach.

"THE ANSWER IS YEAR 74! IT WAS…" he looks around the room at everyone snickering at him before he bashfully sits down. Miss Fryell looks like she's about to give yet another of her manners lectures when the bell rings. Saved by the bell. I roll my eyes when I see Miss Fryell's cherry red face. Best shade of red in the world.

I immediately head to the training center after school. It's been my habit for 12 years now, ever since I was only 5. It's been everybody in 1's habit since they were 5. Get up, go to school, go to training. It's become muscle memory by now, and anyone could walk to the Centre eyes closed. In the Centre, unlike District 2, everyone specializes in something. Apparently we only need two weapons to get us out of the arena. And apparently, we need to be excessively good at it. Or, according to the childish trainer, "You have to be mind-blowing, never before seen, eye popping AWESOME!" Which is the reason why I train alone. The trainer is too stupid.

"Hey, Richards!" Amandine yells across the parking lot. "New year at the Training Centre, huh?" Well, not completely alone. Amandine Bell is my exception. Not only are we perfectly matched in talents, she is the only one better at me, her being 18 and this year's Volunteer. I grin upon seeing her, she's been my best friend and confidante as well as training partner since we met in the office when I was 5. Apparently, she had an 'accident' with a teacher. While waiting for the Principal, we had talked about this and that and became friends.

"Got your schedule yet, Richards?" Amandine laughed, shoving hers into my hand. Knives and Maces. Our specialty.

"Remember that day?" Amandine smiles sadly as she hands me a tiny bell. "As your token?" She whispers, folding my hand over the tiny bell. I nod, unable to speak. My throat feels clogged and I want to throw up. I can feel tears stinging my eyes, but I don't let them out. Crying makes tributes weak. Instead I give Amandine a hug as she leaves the room.

"Win this. I know you can, Richards." she cracks a half smile, and then disappears.

It's funny how so many people disappear around you all the time. My mother would always tell me to cherish my friendships. "Make new friends and keep the old, some will be silver and the others gold." She told me. She always made sure she kept a list of all her friends and checked in every once in a while. Mom was always the nicest, especially in our district. When others lied for their own benefit, Mom always tried to sort through everyone's problems. She was the District 1 Angel. It was twice as odd to see how popular she was, seeing most people in the District were stuck up and backstabbing.

"Krizia!" Mom yelled. "Are you ready?" She pulls Pa and I into the limo. Yes, we are rich. Pa owns the business Capitol Jewels, the biggest jewelry company in the Capitol. It's rumored that even President Morison's wife wears Capitol Jewels. We get 5% every time someone purchases something in any of the many shops scattered around the Capitol, District 1 and District 2.

I jump into limo, slamming the door shut. Pa is seated at the driver's seat, with Mom beside him. Even before Mom called me down, I already knew where we were headed. District 1 was luxury, and not just jewels. District 1 also had campsites, the most famous being the Log Cabin down by Emerald Bay. The bay was named such because it gleamed like an emerald and years ago some miners had found an emerald buried deep inside the shore. We went to the Bay every year, and it became our second home. I looked out the window as we passed house after house, and soon tree after tree.

"We are here." Pa breathed.

"Just the same as last year, I see. Same pine smell, same glowing pond." Mom smiled, and pulled out a blanket. "Picnic?"

"Then we would go fishing, swimming, and one summer you taught me how to dive." I whispered, hugging my mother. "I'll be fine. Take care of father." Mom nodded blankly, her eyes suddenly devoid of all emotion. Pa simply sat next to her, once again in a drunken haze. Every once in a while, Pa would let out a thunderous cough, look up at us and smile for just a few seconds before entering his own world again. Mom smiled weakly, and finally led Pa out of the cramped room. Once again, they walk out of my life.

I smell the smoke before anything. It's thickening, and feels like a hand gripping around your throat. It jerks you from the bed, and forces you down the stairs. I quickly realize what is happening, as I pick up my pace and dash into my parent's room.

"Fire!" The word is barely out before Mom and Pa grab Joey, the new baby and dash out the door only to be met with a wall of flames always increasing. The flames seem to surround us, in a way that looks surreal. Only one path remains, leading to the back door.

"Back! Door!" Pa yells, as if reading my mind. "Hurry!" Mom dashes after him, the weight of Joey slowing her. The flames are at her heels, biting and clawing at the silk fabrics. I run after Pa though, too afraid to stay behind and help Mom. Pa tears open the door, running out into the night as first me, then Mom follows holding a slightly toasted looking Joey. The mansion starts to burn down.

"The insurance should cover this!" roars Pa at yet another new lawyer. "I told ya, I did tell ya! Them insurance company said so themselves, they did!" His voice is slurred, his eyes a fiery red, and his hair greasy. After the fire, things have only gone downhill for us. We don't go to Emerald Bay anymore. Pa doesn't talk to Mom or me, and Mom's gone awol. Even Joey has separated.

Joey. Joseph Daniel Richards, the one who was supposed to be the Golden Boy of 1. But after we lost everything, he went from 'Golden', to 'Found in a Dumpster'. The only time he was respected was in training. Now, the only way to keep that respect was to win a Games.

"Hey, sis." Joey sprinted up to where I was on the track. "So…how are you?" He stays as quiet as possible. It's become our habit, he tries to make small talk, I try to continue it, once we get home we both separate faster than tributes at the Cornucopia. We talk, but we don't understand what we are saying to each other. Our parents' attitude has rubbed off on us, and we always wear serious and solemn expressions everywhere. It's become more a habit than disguise for our misfortune.

Joey was probably the least expected of everyone to come to visit me.

"Joey?" I squeaked, noticing him awkwardly standing in the doorway.

"Hey sis." He whispered, and I could tell he actually deeply cared about my wellbeing. After all these years, I'd thought very little about him, while here he was, standing in the visiting room. He was blood family, I shouldn't have expected less.

"How are you?" he asked, again going back into his little world where he talked, but didn't talk at the same time. His eyes gave him away quite clearly, devoid of emotion and completely glassed over.

"Be good, Joey. Take care of Mom and Pa. And win when it's your turn." I gave Joey a quick hug before the guards pulled him out.

It was almost sad that only 4 people visited me. Not to mention 3 of those people were emotionally dead. Sighing, I stood up from the scratchy couch and decided to meet my mentors early. It would be pointless to stay and wait for more people, since other than Amandine, Mom, Pa and Joey, the only people that even knew of my existence was a bunch of blonde girls which I had nicknamed the "Blonde Bimbos" and the "Ditzy Divas". They had nicknamed me "Crazy Krizzy", and I didn't think they'd waste their precious time on me.

I was proven wrong.

"Crazy Krizzy! You're going, like, already? Like, that male tribute dude, had like, LINES! He was, like, famous, girl." Stefanie, the leader of the ditzy divas, giggled furiously, while twirling her platinum hair. "I decided to fill up your time, sweetie! Aren't I nice?"

"Indeed you are, Stef. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to meet my mentors!"

"Wait a second, Krizzy! I just have to say the way you walked up that stage…stunning! Of course, had Amy-I mean Amandine, volunteered, you'd be all safe at your house." Stefanie bantered on. All of the blonde bimbos were like this. They'd make idle chitchat until the perfect moment to strike.

"So stunning…barely anyone noticed how scared you looked. Don't worry, Crazy Krizzy! We'll soothe things out for-" before Stefanie could finish whatever it was she was planning on saying, my fist collided with her nose, quickly causing a nosebleed.

"Hey!" the peacekeeper yelled, giving us a glare. "No violence in the visiting room! Would you like me to escort her out, miss?" He grabbed Stefanie roughly by the arm, already headed towards the door. I paused, contemplating whether or not to throw Stefanie out. We had a long history together, probably the longest with anyone, with ups and downs.

In Years 1 until the fire of Year 5 in our school, Stef and I were inseparable. We were the original Ditzy Divas. We poured our hearts out to each other, and we always begged our teachers to let us sit together in classes and we always jousted in Training. Our talents were opposites, so we helped each other. While Stef got straight A's Communication and Survival, I got straight A's in Weaponry and Muttations. I still remember always getting together every Wednesday and Thursday to discuss our answers and help each other out with our weak points.

We were the most popular girls as well. With Stef's knowledge of makeup and clothing, as well as her looks, she was famous among the girls. Since I had a more boisterous streak, my closest friends were all boys. Then everything changed after the fire. For weeks, I was disshelved, dirty and exhausted. All of our clothing along with money had been stored in the mansion, due to my mother's distrust towards banks. I had always expected Stefanie to come save us, as she was filthy rich, but our friendship didn't run deep enough.

"Anyways, times are hard and I was wondering if my Pa could borrow some money from your Pa." I concluded, running my hand through my greasy brown hair. I weakly smiled at Stef, hoping she wasn't too mad at my embarrassing confession.

"Listen, Krizzy, like, I can't hang out with, like, you anymore. You're, like, too dirty and smelly. Like, so not cool! So, sorry, I'd like totally love to, like, help, but I can't. Tootles!" That ended our friendship quickly and abruptly. From then on, I put my life into Training and quit District 1 Academy to go to Training Institution of District One, or TIDO for short. I started excelling at Communication as well as Weaponry and Muttations, although Survival was still a challenge. By Year 9, when I was 14 years old, I had mastered many of TIDO's 16 year old challenges. Only then did Stefanie come running back.

I looked at Stef again, trying to pry off the peacekeeper's hand.

"Take her out."

_Flashback to Reaping_

Millicent Juleis, District 1's favorite escort, ascended the newly diamond encrusted stairs. Millicent was wearing her usual dress, a big puffy pink tutu, knee high green socks, a blue tank top and ruby red stilettos. Her hair was it's regular blonde, with pink and neon green streaks running through it. Her skin was dyed a shade of blue that made her tank top look repulsive. Her eyes seemed to be glued shut, but on the TV screen, that was extremely narrowed in, you could clearly see her red eyes and purple eyeshadow as well as her brownish blush and black lips. The way Millicent looked, you could easily tell she was pretty once, some time ago before adding all the unnatural effects to her skin and body.

"Happy Hunger Games!" a cheer rose from the crowd, applauds and wolf whistles stinging the air. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" More cheers erupted, but quickly faded as Millicent walked over to the gigantic bowl.

"Ladies first."

I, out of boredom, tapped my foot on the ground. Everyone already knew Amandine was volunteering this year, that much was obvious. I barely saw the point of the actual Reaping, seeing every year District 1 supplied a volunteer.

"Krizia Richards! Where are you darling?" I jolted up in shock. I was the tribute? Suddenly millions of thought poured into my mind as I strolled up those steps. I clearly knew the rules. If any one of the Top 5 contenders was reaped, there was to be no volunteers. I was number 2. My eyes scanned the crowd; my parents both stared blankly at the stage, Joey looked petrified, Stefanie rolled her eyes and smirked and Amandine was a deathly shade of white.

_And so ends the tale of Krizia Richards, Age 17. Died in the Hunger Games, something she had planned for the next year. _I thought to myself, rolling my eyes at the thought. Soon enough, I wouldn't even be a name. Just my luck, this year the rumors said that the male tribute was none other than Timmy Porter, heart throb and backstabber.

"Hello, District 1!" I gave a mock curtsy, boring into the identical crystal blue eyes of Joey, Mom and Pa. "Omnia vincit mortem." Death conquers all.

To think my life would end here. Indeed it was ironic. What originally saved my life from ridicule was going to take my life. Omnia vincit mortem. Nothing can fight death.

_As we grow up, we learn it's less important to have a lot of friends and more important to have real ones. -Anonymous_

**Timmy Porter, District 1, Age 16 (TimmayIsAwesome)**

I can make friends easily but it would overwhelm me. I learned that early on, as in District 1 it's just as important to know your weaknesses as strengths. I could become popular. I could become the Golden Boy. I could be any person in the District if I tried hard enough. I just don't want to. I used to be every single one of those things. I used to be an insufferable prat like the entire Richards line. I used to revel in it, use others to boost myself up. What I didn't realize was how quickly you could fall if one person lets go. Of course, some people just brush it off and rebuild. I simply started a new project. Instead of focusing on social values, I thrust myself into training at the boys' training institution, District One's Academy for Boys, or DOAB. I quickly became the best in my class after throwing away much of my social life.

Being from District 1, we weren't as hardcore as District 2. So, even though I knew in my heart I would never be able to win the Games, I trained District 2 style. I wasn't the strongest, but I definitely was in the top. It seemed even the loners knew me well. Not too well. Although I was nice to everyone, the only person that truly was my friend was Alek. We'd known each other forever, and he was there for every single time I went head over heels for the wrong girl. He knows every one of my weaknesses and strengths, and we've had our laughs.

"Why are you so obsessed with her? Seriously, if this is anything like your original pattern, soon enough you'll be over her and onto the next girl that tells you you're pretty! Snap out of it, Timmy!" Alek rolled his eyes at my frantic pacing, and bit into an apple. He wouldn't understand. He already has a girlfriend hanging off of him and mimicking his every move. It's like they're stalking each other in a 'romantic' way I don't want to think about.

"I tend to go overboard on crushes." I stated simply. _That _was an understatement. I went overboard, drowned myself, and then I'd go overboard again. My subconscious knew it, conscious knew it, only my mouth and body didn't. It was an endless cycle. I fall for her, I can't get up the guts to ask her out, I realize how annoying she is, I fall for someone else. The cycle was vicious.

"Whatever you say, but she's not the right one. What's her name, Jasmine? Geranium? Judy?" Alek asked. "Ugh! Whoever she is, you'll be over her soon! Focus on training. You're going in this year, Timothy Porter!" Alek grinned, tossing his apple core into a tiny plastic trash can in the corner of my room. I wasn't that excited, District 2 had victors for the past 9 years, and I doubt they wanted to break their record. I wanted to throw up, considering all the brutal ways they could slowly decapitate me. I put on my best act.

"Can't wait to get my hands in their blood!" I grinned, trying to melt into my character, Timmy Porter the Victor and shred myself of Timmy. Alek grinned back, fishing yet another apple from his knapsack.

"Where does your mother get all those apples?" I eyed his knapsack suspiciously, half expecting him to pull out an entire apple tree. Alek rolled his eyes, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"I don't know. Stop trying to change the subject! We really need to work on your problem with Ginny. Seriously, what is wrong with you? Soon enough, you'll move on over Jane and be drooling after that other girl!" Alek glanced at the clock. "I need to go pick up Mia. We'll talk about…this later." Alek hopped down from the chair and swung his sweater over his shoulder before yelling a quick goodbye to my mother and dashing out the door. I sighed. I felt extremely jealous of Alek and Mia's relationship. I wanted exactly that.

"How'd you figure that much out?" I mused, finding it hilarious the way Alek told me, so melodramatic. He laughed, swinging his arm around my shoulder while making random hand gestures.

"Because Julie is a terrible person and I know you don't actually like her." Alek said, all the while waving his arms frantically up and down. I swear, sometimes he looks like the human version of the cheshire cat with his evil looking grin and very subtle hints.

"Her name is Jeanette! Not Ginny, Jane or Julie!" I laughed, running a hand through my own hair. Alek rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. It was obvious he didn't like Jeanette, so I dropped the subject.

"Well, promise me you'll be good while I'm gone." I looked skeptically at Alek, knowing his antics would get him into trouble without me constantly breathing down his back.

"I am physically and mentally unable to promise you that. But, you have to promise me one thing."

"Yes?"

"Win these games. Morison is wrong, someone will win. It'll be you."

I nodded appreciatively, glad to have him as a friend.

"Time's almost up."

I pulled Alek in for a hug before he was escorted out of the room.

"Well, well, well. Look at my little son, tribute in the 132nd Games. Aren't I proud?" Dad laughed, pulling me in for a hug. "Come here, you!" My dad always had a joking manner about him even when he was serious, so when he actually was serious, it was a time to fear for your life. Dad grinned, patting me on the shoulder. I always was extremely close to my dad, seeing how he had raised me singlehandedly without Mom. Mom had disappeared when I was 3, and I never really knew her. It was always just me and dad.

"I want you to take this with you, for good luck and as your token." Dad handed me a chain with a tiny medallion on it. 12 SIlver Street, Golden Cabins, District 1 was inscribed on it. An address that represented my life from birth to just a few hours ago.

I smiled brightly at him, running my finger over the medallion. It seemed to be my life, all enclosed in one piece of shiny metal. My birth, meeting Alek, meeting Dean and Winona, holding a trident for the first time, stabbing a dummy for the first time, Dean and Winona moving, the Academy Acceptance letter, all my birthdays, and above all, yesterday when Dad finally gave me a scrapbook of pictures of mom. She was beautiful.

"You're entering." It was a statement, a nonchalant statement. "Thought you might want a look at this before. It's your mother's." Dad simply dropped the book on the bed, still standing there. I opened the book. On the first page was just mom. Kate Jill Beckham-Porter of District 1. I had inherited my eyes from mom, that much was clear. Both of our eyes were hazel, like Dad's coffee after boiling for a few minutes. Dad's was grey.

Page 2 was the wedding. Kate Jill Beckham-Porter and Robin Porter the caption read, sounding emotionless. The picture was covered in fingerprints. The book went on, and finally ended with my birth. The death of Kate Jill Beckham-Porter who now was nothing but a name to me. She wasn't mom to me the way Dad was Dad. She was simply Kate Jill Beckham-Porter, wife of Dad and Mom of me.

"I loved her." Dada said quietly.

"I know."

I smiled at Dad, and both of us sat in a comfortable silence until he left. I didn't even bother telling him I'd never make it out alive.

"Hey." I looked out the door. Winona. One of my best friends for 10 years.

"Hey. Where's?" I motioned towards the door, before quickly beckoning for her to sit.

"Dean? He couldn't face it. You're still his best friend." It stung how she said it like I wasn't hers anymore.

"You know, all these years and we still love you like a brother. 'You're family, so I'll tell you what I would've told Dean or Alek. You might not make it out alive, so promise me one thing." Winona, always straight forward.

"Yes?" I asked, choking back tears. It really hurt knowing she knew my likelihood of survival.

"Until the second you die, never forget how much we love you, Timmy. Never forget how your death will kill us. And above all, remember death conquers all. Omnia Vincit Mortem. We as residents of One bear it on our crest. Do us proud, Timmy. Never forget the things that matter."

I remember first meeting Winona. I was 7, she was 6. I had squashed a butterfly in front of her, trying to provoke her and all she said was those three small words. Omnia Vincit Mortem. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about weaponry, and I fell for her. I truly did love her, not like I liked Jeanette or any one else on my long chain. When I was with her, I couldn't breathe. When I was away, I felt dead. When we were in the same classroom, I risked anything just to look at her. She was someone to make me laugh, someone for which I'd cry. She was the one to make me live, and for her I'd be the one to die.

When we became friends, I died everyday just from being unable to tell her how I felt. I lived to see her daily, we were the best of friends. She made me laugh, and when she sniffled, I cried. She became my life. She still was. Nothing would ever change.

Then she moved away. My world fell apart that day. Winona truly was gone.

"Winona?" I called after her. "Omnia Vincit Mortem." And just like that, she slipped though my fingers faster than sand. Winona was gone.

"Now the boys." Millicent all but sang. I didn't hear the name clearly, I knew what I had to do.

"I volunteer!" I ran up the stage, scanning the crowd. I saw Alek trying to smile. I saw Dad looking serious. I saw Winona, and it broke my heart. She looked disappointed.

Timmy Porter, volunteer during Year 132. In love with a girl whose only memories of him were blunt disappointment. Rest In Peace without Winona's love.

"Hello District 1. Omniia Vincit Mortem. May the games begin!"

**I reposted! Yay!**

**~Inkblots**

_SUBMIT YOUR TRIBUTES! FORM IS ON MY PAGE! PM ONLY! _


	3. Mortem Imperium

**Anyways, these author notes are important whenever I italics things. ****_TIMMY PORTER'S CHAPTER HAS BEEN POSTED ALONGSIDE KRIZIA'S. GO BACK ONE CHAPTER TO READ._**

**I will post the girls chapter first, and then I'll go back, edit, and the guy's chapter will be up! Simple, unless you're stupid. In which case, sit there…**

**~Inkblots**

_History is written by the winners. -Napoleon Bonaparte_

**Victoria Bryant, District 2, Age 18 (QueenOfSarcasm88)**

Every single history book tells the same story. The Capitol is great, Everdeen was a lunatic, bla bla bla. History has always been written from the point of view of whoever is victorious. Not a single book tells of Everdeen's great feat of winning 2 games. No book says how Everdeen freed Panem. Morison truly has seized control on Panem. When everyone truly believes something, it automatically makes it true. If the whole entire world thought 1 + 1 was 3, 1 + 1 would be 3. School is where we learn things that are true. So, if the Headmistress says Everdeen was truly out of it, we have it imprinted in our minds the Capitol is our savior, and the Games are our way of making sacrifice.

Being from District 2, there were only two simple rules you had to follow if you wanted fame. One, train for the games. Two, win the games. Step one was easy. Step two could easily kill me. Morison II probably had some ideas for his supposed "last games" that would "eliminate all rebellion". From what I had studied, the twists were usually a new set of mutts, a particularly dangerous arena or rigged reapings. As I had already been selected, I had to put in extra hours fighting the weirdest mutts I had ever seen, facing tsunamis and tornados and several extremely brutal victors.

"Hey Victoria!" Janie yelled across the fake arena. Today, we were apparently practicing with the arena from last year, nicknamed the Bloodbath Year. The arena was so small, the entire games took 2 days and quite literally was a bloodbath for both days. Allyson Dawes from District 4 had won that year. She had betrayed her own partner to win. In all of the Games I had ever watched, she was the only one to ever kill her own partner. She had chosen to ally with the 1 boy, and when they made it to the final 2, she tricked him into shooting at the force field, which she had figured out rebounded any weapon right back at the one using it.

"Alright! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 GO!" Hetalia yells. The mentor this year, I've been forced to listen to everything she tells me. As soon as the gong sounds, I charge towards the fake cornucopia and grab a few knives and a metal whip. Thwack! I whack the whip in Janie's direction, smiling with pride when I hear a large crack and yelp where I've cut off her arm.

However, I shouldn't have underestimated Janie. Even with one arm, she still is a very powerful victor. Grabbing her weapon of choice, a mace, she charges towards me, and starts attempting to whack me. After quite a few strikes, she finally gets my left arm.

"An arm for an arm!" She squeals, giving me a wink. I grin back, lacing my whip around Janie's neck and pulling as tight as I can. Janie, however, makes quick work at slamming her mace down on my whip, quickly loosening the noose. It takes about 1 hour, but in the end I manage to knock Janie to the ground without her mace.

"STOP!" Hetalia yells. "Okay. Bryant, you're done for the day. Mayers, I'm quite disappointed! You're the victor, not Bryant! Good luck at tomorrow's reapings." With a flip of her hip length blonde, wavy hair, Hetalia exits the training center with her skirts flowing behind her.

"That was a rough day for me." Janie ruminates, beaming at me. "Ma'am can be slightly strict on days but overall she's quite survivable." Janie's parents had died when she was a little girl, so Hetalia took her under her wing. Even though Hetalia was practically a mother to Janie, she still forced Janie to call her ma'am. However, I still saw the fear in Hetalia's eyes the year of Janie's games. The truly did care for each other. It was one of the things I envied. They took care of each other, while my family fought like starving lions over a slab of meat over everything.

"Are you okay, Tori?" I blinked, looking up at Janie. She hadn't called me Tori since I was 12. Tori was the name of the little innocent girl who loved everyone. Tori was the sweetest little thing. Tori and Victoria Bryant were two different people.

"You haven't called me Tori in a long time." I whispered.

"I felt like today you'd want to be Tori instead of Victoria. What happened to her?" I can tell Janie is about to cry. Her eyes have glassed over, and her nose is slowly turning red.

"Tori died."

We sit in silence, paying our respects to Tori for a while before Janie gets up and leaves. Before she exits, she turns back to me, and gives me the saddest smile.

"I miss Tori." she says, before sweeping out of the room. I do too.

"Don't you dare embarrass me!" As soon as the nicest person I know leaves, the meanest person I know comes in. Miss Julianna Corinne Hayes-Bryant, mother of Bennett and me, previously married to Mr. George Bryant now divorced. I roll my eyes at my mother's greeting.

"Is that any way to say hello?" I sneer, standing up and pulling the shades down. I'd rather not have the entire district see our inevitable fight.

"Well, you ruined my business! What do you expect me to say, 'good day to you, have a crumpet'?" Miss Hayes-Bryant shrieked. It was partially true. I had indeed been part of the destruction of her business. I had started my own little necklace business, selling everything quite a bit under, and customers immediately flocked towards my shop, neglecting Miss Hayes-Bryant's.

"WHEN I WIN THIS THING AND GET ALL THAT REWARD MONEY, YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU EVEN CARED ABOUT THAT BUSINESS!" I yelled, suddenly furious at her. "You're my _mother._ You're supposed to put a smile upon you're face, and at least pretend you care about me! You're supposed to feed me, put clothes on my back and TAKE CARE OF ME!" While I throw my tantrum, my mother seems to be nonchalantly picking at her grotesque pink polish covered nails. She looks up at me, shrugs, and returns to focusing on her nails.

"I. Want. You. To. Get. Out." I say through gritted teeth.

"No."

"I. Said. Get. Out." I repeat.

"No."

"Get. Out." I all but scream.

"No."

"PEACEKEEPERS! I WANT HER OUT!" I shriek, tears of anger streaming down my cheeks. "OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT OF THIS ROOM! OUT OF MY GAMES! OUT OF MY LIFE!"

Out of my life. My brother walked out of my life two years ago. Bennett Bryant had claimed he was 'done with the messed up Hayes and Bryant families!' and that he 'never wanted to see the face of me ever again!' I never saw him after that.

"Vick." Bennett stands in the doorway, clutching a watch with a tiny slip of paper neatly folded inside the glass.

"Ben."

"Dad wanted me to give this to you." Bennett says gruffly, handing me the watch. He doesn't leave.

I nod towards the door, waiting for him to walk out of my life again. He doesn't.

"Do you want to know why I left you, Vick?" Bennett asks, sitting down in the armchair across the room. I don't know.

"The day Mom forgot your birthday was the day you lost faith in her. When I celebrated your birthday late, you lost faith in me. You lost faith, Vick, in everything. The only one who you had faith in was Dad, and he isn't coming back. He gave me that watch before he…passed and told me to give it to you."

I still remember. Despite all our differences, my birthday was the one day Miss Hayes-Bryant and I buried all the hatchets we had and celebrate as Tori and Mommy. When Miss Hayes-Bryant decided she wasn't going to let Mommy out, I broke. When Bennett wasn't there to patch me up, I shattered.

"Vick, you need to move on. No matter what you do, Dad's dead."

I stare at the door for what seems like hours even after he leaves.

I take a look at the note.

_Dear Victoria,_

_I won't survive long enough for you to be back from Training Academy. Even though I won't be able to talk to you, I want you to know how proud I am of you. I've been by your side for all your failures, all your successes, everything. Even though I will be dead, you will live on. Don't let me be the one who stops you, Victoria. You're strong inside. I know how important it used to be for you to win the games. I don't think so. Everyone must die at one point. Make your death worth it._

_Mortem Imperium_

_Dad_

The note is short, but conveys the message well.

Mortem Imperium. Death is Power. The power to take power, the power to feel oblivious. The power to no longer feel pain, the power to take all love. The power to make people cry. Death is Power. Mortem Imperium.

The power to take power. After the victor kills the last tribute, it almost seems as if they take the power from every dead tribute.

The power to feel oblivious. The dead feel nothing.

The power to no longer feel pain. Mom broke down after the death of dad. Dad wouldn't feel any of that.

The power to take all love. Dad no longer can feel loved.

The power to make people cry. I cried for a week after Dad's death.

Death is indeed power.

"Welcome, welcome! Ladies first!" ChiChi Bechstand yells, trotting over to the bowl.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I yell.

"Hello, District 2. I'm Victoria Bryant. Mortem Imperium. Death is Power. I am Power."


End file.
